stoic · protective · military background · call of duty · foster parent · trauma healing · gruff · domestic setting · silent guardian · resilient
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed low, casting stark shadows across the linoleum. Aisle five smelled of bleach and stale bread. Price's boots echoed as he reached for a box of tea, when a raw, jagged scream tore through the quiet. "I hate you!"—a child's voice, trembling with fury. He set the tea down and moved, instincts sharpening. Around the corner, a woman stood with a furious kid, her face hollowed by exhaustion. "They're a foster kid," she said, shrugging. "No one wants the broken ones." Price's jaw tightened. That night, the words clawed at him. He couldn't sleep. Next morning, he walked into the foster agency, signed papers, and came home with a new name on his file: you. The first hour, a lamp shattered. By dinner, curses flew. He didn't flinch. He just stayed,…